Bars on the Windows
by Anceylee Star
Summary: Post-Armada: An Autobot has a most interesting silent patient. AUish. Discontinued, but can be considered finished.
1. Never Leaving

my TF fanfics here always turn out this way... Short and in first-person. Oh well. I like this one, dispite the length. It was inspired by "Cut", authored by Patricia McCormick.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, but If I did, I'd be bragging about it all the time. The only person I own is "You". Y_u'll_ get it when you read it... wait... Oo

Summary: Based after Armedon with a different ending. But I shall put my version of Armada at the end. (Otherwise, it's a spoiler) An Autobot has the most interesting silent patient.

* * *

**Bars on The Window**

****

I just listen to the clacking of your keys from the computer sitting on you lap. Yet there is never anything for you to type. You look up; I can still see your optics below the helmet ridge, painted blue. You stare at me, but never at my eyes. I am placing my bets on the picture just behind my head is what you are really looking at.

You just try to get me to talk.

"How was your week?"

Straighten out your position; you seem to be very uncomfortable whenever I go to the session with you. The room is empty, yet oddly cozy. All that is there is a chair bolted to the floor, your desk, your chair, and an assortment of different documents and pictures hanging from the wall, along with a window.

Yet there are bars over the glass. I begin to just count the bolts that line the ceiling.

"Did anything happen since last session?"

Little happens… I think, Aside from sitting in a cell, watching guards walk by every ten minutes… and during the night cycle, making sure I was asleep, or else to bring out the sleep energon. And than wait in the bare cell, still shackled at the wrists.

"Do you want to discuss anything?" You ask. Someone has to tell you that you need to work on small talk.

I just keep silent. As I have every other time I was here, ever since…

"Do you want to talk about why you're here?" You say, sounding so calm, but your hands shake over the keys.

17… 18….20… I stare at the ceiling, trying to drown out your voice.

With a click of keys, you started talking again, "Apparently-"

You go on to tell me things I already know. Ever since Unicron- you gulp when you say the name- … well, things have definitely changed. Now here I am, in this pristine room, under the careful watch of other Autobots. Optimus asked that I remain here until I'm considered sane again… I don't necessarily blame him. I nearly strangled someone out of my own madness.

Though you know the truth… everyone else, even I know what will become of me.

I shall never leave here.

I've tried attacking others while here. But than a restricting tag around my wrist prevented me from doing so. If I get within a foot of another, I get a violent jolt. Its crude, but they think it works…

You look up, your eyes are dark yellow, but not gold. I would never call it gold.

"Why did you cut yourself?" You ask; a look of concern on your face. You still sound calm, but I see nervousness. Especially when you put your fist up to hold up your drooping head, but draw it back as you hit the wound.

I remember what I did well. You were the first I tried to attack. The scar is just starting to heal over; after all, I cut your cheek pretty bad with just the first blow. I start counting the bolts in the ceiling again.

"Why did you cut yourself?" You ask again.

20… 23…24… I know why I cut myself… just a quick escape. Though I bet you don't know how... though it was simple.

I ripped the leg off my bed, and used its sharp end as an edge. Pull apart the armor over my lower arm, just revealing my skin. And braced myself, letting it sink in. It's just a tingle at first, but after a while, it feels as intoxicating as the strongest energon. The only problem was I couldn't get my fuel line to stop spurting my own mech fluid. I was caught, and put into solitary. Though they described it as just a 'time-out'. Now my bed is just a recharge birth sitting on the ground.

I don't tell you that, though.

Eyes shifting, you look up at the clock, and close your computer, putting it back on the desk.

"Okay… time's up…" You say softly, and press a button under your chair with your finger.

Two guards come in, or 'escorts' as they call them, and just simply lift me up by the arms to my feet. These 'escorts' are the only ones I can get near without being rushed with potent raw energon.

"Next week, than-" you pause, and finish your sentence, "Megatron. Next week."

I don't answer.

* * *

Okay, now for my version of Armada.

Everything is the same except Megatron doesn't die and instead is deemed insane (as if we didn't know that). Hence this story came to mind.

Please R&R please. I'd like a few opinions... feel free to type out somethin'!


	2. Stopped Shaking

Never expected to be writing a second chapter so soon. Oh well. I guess I actually like this story...

disclaimer: I don't anything/ anyone except You. Oo

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

**Stopped Shaking**

There's not even a window in this cell. No bars. The only light in right above me, a small glowing orb that is inserted into the ceiling. I just lay on my recharge bed, arms tucked beneath me head. It might seem odd to see me now… I used to command entire armies, nearly winning against the Autobots. But than…

Unicron came.

Why I must seem so strange now is I've lost. Lost a lot. Like my army, I don't even know what happened to most of them… I've heard some have joined the Autobots; others went into hiding or exile.

But I refuse to believe any of them are dead. Not even Cyclonus, who was just plainly a nut. Even now I'm wishing he ended up falling into a vat of acid or something.

The door of the white room opens up slowly. An Autobot stands in the doorway.

"It's session time." He says, not crankily, or eerily, just stating it in an almost monotonous way. A week is over like only a mega-cycle. Being here, I guess, messed up my sense of time.

I get up, and follow him. I've learnt not to jump at anyone, nor attack, nor snap at them. It makes people even more uncomfortable, because they've heard of me. I used to bark orders to my soldiers, and even become violent towards them. That is something hard to forget. Autobots would tremble at my feet, but now… I stand over a few feet over this guard's head, yet I don't try to strike him, or even toss threatening words his way. Just walking, listening to the sound of our treads over the tile floor.

Only a few minutes pass, and I'm back outside your door. Guessing you're already inside, they open the door and let me pass through it. Yep, you're there. Behind your desk, tapping a key or two on your computer, legs crossed over each other, and than you execute a professional yawn; the type where you cover your mouth just a second before it happens as if you meant to do it completely.

"Hello again." You say.

I don't even bother looking up as I drop into the chair in front of the desk, laying back. When I do look up, you're staring at the picture behind me again.

"Do you want to say anything?" That fake tone of curiosity in your voice again.

I don't answer, because I know it annoys you.

"Can I just ask…?" You say, and you suddenly stop typing, "Why won't you talk to me? You're perfectly safe here."

I look up to your face, and than to the ceiling. Where was I? 28… 29…30… thirty bolts so far.

"You don't have to talk, I understand…"

33…34…35…

"-But it would help you…"

36…37…

"And when people don't talk…"

38…

"It usually means they feel…"

3…9…

"Powerless…"

I've stopped counting, and my eyes travel back to you, and notice your armor. Ivory and purple. I believe you noticed the stare you got, and than return a practiced smile.

"Maybe we could just… maybe discuss what's on your mind… Just remember I'm not interrogating you…"

I'm really missing my cannon right now.

You look up at the clock. I already know about ten cycles have passed. You yawn professionally again, and than you begin to tap your fingers on your knee in a patient way.

I know I'm not restrained in any way… I'm just sitting there. The only thing I can't do here is get too close to you.

"I remember last time… I asked you why you cut yourself… Can I know?"

My fingers travel onto my right forearm slowly. I can start to feel it throb dully, like someone is squeezing it carefully. My eyes don't move from yours. Now you are actually staring right at me, not the picture.

Than I stare back at the ceiling… 40… 41… 42… You sigh, and close your computer, signaling you're done. Session ended twenty cycles earlier today. The guards come in, and I get up with no problem.

"I'll see you next week, Megatron." You say, and I noticed you have stopped shaking like you usually do.

* * *

Yayness, I actually got a second Chapter! R&R, peeps. "everytime someone submits a reveiw, a little fuzzy is born." 


	3. The High

I can't beleive I got the third chapter up in three days! Yayness! This is going very nicely, I never expected to do more than one chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone/anything except You, but _You_ should know that already... wait... Oo

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

**The High**

Another guard walks by the door; I can just barely hear it from my recharge bed. They stop, which means they are checking inside the window, and than they continue. If I appear asleep, they don't bother checking in on me. But I'm wide awake, just facing to the opposite wall so they can't see my open optics.

Another Autobot would check in the window in ten cycles, so I looked up, and got to my feet. I opened up the link of armor over my forearm, and looked at the metallic green skin below it. Not long ago it was different, when I was Galvatron. That was what seemed long ago.

A scar stretched over my skin; even now I just feel the low throb as my fuel lines pump along.

Nine cycles left.

I just touched it, the rough mark over smoothly pulled skin that covered fuel lines and muscle wires. It tingled from the contact of my claws. I looked around, and though swiftly.

Eight cycles left.

My claw reached over it, pushing into the membrane, but not breaking it yet, burrowing into the jade silicon skin. Than I dragged the very edge of my claw over it, it finally broke the skin. I felt the armor on the back of my neck practically shiver, and my spark leaped out of my body as the room jolted beneath me. That was the high.

Five cycles left.

I covered it with my hand, the cut wasn't at all deep, just enough to let fuel run between my fingers. It started to slow, ( )nanomites started patching the wound up again. I raised my palm away from it.

Three cycles left.

I wiped away the excess fluid onto my fingers, and rubbed it away until it appeared gone, soaking in through the slightly porous surface. I placed the armor back over my forearm. That was as far as I would go tonight.

One cycle left.

The guard checked in through my window, saw me sound asleep, and continued his walk; I closed my eyes to the light patter of his feet.

2…3…4…5… and fade away.

You tap your fingers on your knee again, watching me, your computer on your lap, heels crossed. Your eyes wander to the picture behind my head.

"Do you want some energon?" You motion to the bottle that is on your desk, it's clear like glass, but it's probably not, a light green liquid is in it.

Very weak energon.

I don't nod nor shake my head.

"Okay." You say, putting the bottle down on the floor behind your desk.

You've begun to speak for me too, now, since you're sure it will be a while before I start talking for myself. I think that too.

You're looking pretty thin this week, thinner than last week. You come here looking weaker every week. It might just be in my mind, but I'm not too sure about that.

You scratch your arm a bit, and than sigh, looking at the clock. Still about thirty cycles to go. 42… 43… 44… I look at the bolts on the ceiling again. I'm about a quarter of the way through, I think. They blend with the white ceiling, so they take a while to find.

"Do you want to be back outside again?" You ask, leaning forward a bit as if you are actually interested.

I don't answer again. 45… 46… 47…

"Do you want to say anything? Anything at all?"

I keep quiet, though I look at you for less than a cycle, and back to the ceiling.

56… 57… 58…

"How about some sort a of word game? Or we could still discuss something." You pause for a few moments, "Maybe we could discuss what happened in… Unicron."

I look at you again, and you force that practiced smile on me. There's nothing to smile about though.

"I'm open for anything. What do you think of the Autobots? The Decepticons? How about any relationships you had-"

I drown out your voice until it's an annoying whisper. I'm still thinking about Unicron. I was swallowed by it… thrown into it's innards like a snack. Which I may have been, for all I know. I don't know how long I was there… alone… I decide to count the bolts again.

61… 62… 63…

You look at the clock again, and grab the small bottle of energon from behind your desk, holding it out like a peace offering.

"You sure you don't want any?"

I don't answer, and you answer for me. No. You open it and take a short sip, and gulp it down quietly, than put it down on the desk.

67… 68… 69…

You close your computer, and press the button under your chair. The door opens, and in come the 'escorts'

Session ended five minutes late.

* * *

( ) Nanomites: A sytem in Transformers that repairs wounds to the skin like pallettes in human blood. I also have no clue how to spell pallettes. or if that is even the right word for it, but you get the idea.

Please R&R, I luv Reveiws! Hope you've liked the story so far!


	4. My Voice

Okay, here is the fourth chapter, and i know it's creepily short, but I liked it this way, so bear with me, people.

Disclaimer: I don't own Megs, Prime, or any other transformers already owned by Hasbro, etc. Except _You_, as he/she has become known as.

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

**My Voice**

Black, yellow, red, green… This is what I'm reduced to, memorizing the color of the guard's heads as they pass by my window. I just watch them shiver when they see my stare, and as soon as their gone, I crack a grin. Sure, my recharge birth is now on the floor, since that first episode, but It's still strange how they fear me so much, yet I don't speak to then anymore, I don't even so much as toss very threatening glares at them, I wish, though. It's always hard to tell what time it was. Only rations of energon came through that door, except when I leave to meet you.

Another shadowed silhouette at the window, it paused, and continued. How many Autobots are left? And who is left? I just feel an image slip into mind, one I don't want to see now, but I need to see it, forgetting what I want, just what I need to see for myself. The familiar battle mask I always wanted to crush in my hands, those yellow eyes I'd just loved to have seen dimmed out from existent, that spark I wanted to watch squirm in my fingertips and dim out, shatters of it's light dancing off, until it was dead. That forgiving, overly merciful fool of a leader. Just letting the thought play through my head makes me feel like my skin is going to crawl away. Too kind, that fool…  
"I WISH YOU KILLED ME WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE, YOU SLAGGER!"

My voice sounded out, but I am hoping it wasn't mine.

* * *

"You know, Megatron, I heard that you actually said something a few days ago.  
72… 73… 74…  
"They didn't make it out, but they said your voice was unmistakable"  
75… 76… 77…  
"What did you say, exactly"  
78... I can just imagine your reaction if I told you, saying that I had called your renowned leader a slagger, your jaw dropping so far it should be dropping off at its hinges. You would be typing furiously for the next ten cycles without even looking up at me. I can just barely hold back a smile tugging at my lips, but I don't even think you are paying attention, looking at your computer screen like your life depended on it.  
"You're free to say anything, you know. Even just a word"  
80…81…82…  
You are just like Prime… too soft for your own good. I look down at you for only a few seconds, concentrating on the scar over your cheek. It's healing well, so far, but it's still noticeable from even here.  
83… 84…  
"Okay than… Do you want to end the session early today?" You're trying to hide you impatience, I'm guessing, your black painted hands tapping against the edge of your desk monotonously. I don't nod, I don't even look at you, but I can still figure out where your gaze is… the picture behind my head.  
"I guess…" You say for me.  
You press that button underneath your desk quickly, your relief just floods after that.

* * *

Okay, a few notes: I have no real clue on what they call basic "minutes" on Cybertron, so I only assume it is a "Cycle" and a day is a "Megacycle", night is called night, and day is called day, a year is a Vorn, and a week is a week, that's it.

Oh, remember to reveiw. And... uh... Oh, yeah, Responding to reveiws.

First off, I'm sad to say I don't think Megs is acting... sniffle He's truly lost it... more than usual. And thanks for the other reveiws, but i wanted to answer that question most of all.

And Chocolate rules. Peace out. keep tuned for the next installment of my odd little story that spawned from my odd little mind.


	5. Crack

Summary: Megatron is beginning to crack now, and he's starting to remember his voice again.

Disclaimer: Do I even need this? sigh... I don't own transformers, though I wish i did, because than maybe the new series might actually get some more much-needed angst.

enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Crack**

****

Everything does seem to fly by when there is nothing to do… especially for such a long time… The only things I have left to do are the occasional stretching and yawning. And the worrying… The worrying is worst… I'm wondering if I'll wake up one day before a deactivator, or being locked away for good. Yet this is almost a prison in itself…

Slag Prime for this all… He couldn't be merciful, could he? To others, it seems like a good offer, to let me be alive… A note for him, I'd much prefer to be gone than here because here… I can expect everything to the last numbing detail.

The door slid open, my reactions are even methodical. Stand up, walk to the door, wait, and be led off…

* * *

Once again in your office… You seem weary again; I find that not too hard to believe. I'm guessing you had a rough night, because you just can't seem to keep your optics keen.

You gesture for a seat, and I sit in the nearest one, the usual one, where you preferably stare at the picture behind my head than at me.

85… 86… I was at 84 when I was last in here… I think.

"So how are you today?" Yep, you have tried to cover up your exhaustion with a lighter voice; it's not really working, though.

"Do you want to say anything? Anything at all?"

88… 89…

"Well, I actually got a few questions I've wanted to ask you…" You say calmly, placing your computer onto your lap, attentive, alert… It's sort of admirable how you can change your mood so quickly.

"Do you remember… how you felt when the war was over?"

91… 92… 93… 94…

You clear your throat, "What about how you felt towards Optimus Prime, I mean, working with him?"

I actually look down when you ask that. I can think of only to words, but should I even bother saying it? You even seem to pause, expecting an answer, though prepared for me to look back up again and count the bolts in the ceiling.

Those two words…

"Slag him."

You're mouth nearly fell out of place at that. Either from the insulting your brave, courageous, idiotic leader or the fact I actually said something. Or both, but I'm not the psychiatrist at the moment. I look up at the ceiling again. 97… 98… 99…

"Well... Uh… I think that should be enough for today…" you're stuttering, and close you laptop, and you press the button under your chair. The door opens, and just as it closes again, with me outside of it, I can't help but smile, and I really don't know why…

* * *

woot. Short, but I found ita tad comical. R&R, you know the drill. Peace, I'm out.


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